Pizza in Croatia

It was a brilliant day in the Adriatic seaport of Dubrovnik, Croatia. The sky was cloudless and warm breezes kissed the rocky Dalmatian coast. We had arrived in the late afternoon by way of New York, Zurich, Belgrade and Tivat. After a good nights rest we were ready to see Dubrovnik's Old Town.

Our guide spoke English extremely well. All of the group were Americans except for one couple from Eastern Europe.  They spoke English as a second language.  We were there in the off-season and there were quite a few people out and about. There were enough people to create a queue at the gelato shop. In July and August the crowds are quadrupled. Since the advent of the filming of The Game of Thrones in the area, the city has had to build five youth hostels for the crowds of young people visiting the city. Hotels in Dubrovnik are predominantly four or five star. 

We entered the walled city of some one thousand years of age through Pile Gate. The walls and structures are of cut limestone blocks. The wall at some places is twenty feet thick. The city is encircled by the wall of some two and one half miles. We would have the opportunity to "walk the wall" once we reached the top, but first we would discover what ground level had to offer. One thing that was

immediately apparent to me was the Italian architecture.  Dubrovnik was once ruled by the Venice.  As soon as we walked through the gate we were on a small plaza, with a unique fountain in the corner. The domed structure was about twenty feet tall  with a waist high trough around it.  Water gushed into the trough from the mouths of sixteen ugly ornamental faces. It was designed by Onofrio della Cava, the architect and engineer who also designed the aqueduct which brings water to the city. He designed two fountains appropriately named Big Onofrio's Fountain and Little Onofrio's Fountain. Opposite the fountain is the Church of St. Savior, a church built in the late Renaissance style. 

We continued walking leisurely down Placa, the main street, toward the clock tower visible at the end. I turned down the volume on my earpiece, through which the tourguide speaks, in order to hear Claudette's comments. 

"We'll have to get a gelato at that shop befor we catch the bus back to the hotel," she said.

"I remember that gelato shop right outside our hotel in Florence.  I think we tried every flavor," I said.

"But you wouldn't try licorice," my wife responded.

"There is something about black ice cream I don't like," I retorted.

" The building on the left is Sponza Palace.  It now houses our national archives.  You will notice both the Gothic and Renaissance styles of architecture.  It was built between 1516 and 1522," said the tourguide.

Like all buildings it was built of limestone. I've never understood why limestone is so durable. On occasion I have been able to scratch a groove in the stone with my fingernail.  It seems that a stone that soft would not be durable, but history proves me wrong. At the end of the street is one of the city's two belltowers.  This one was built in 1444 and is one hundred and two feet tall.  It was rebuilt in 1929 when the foundation had been damaged by an earthquake. Also on this plaza is the church of St. Blaise, the patron saint of the city.  It was built by a Venetian architect in 1715 on the foundation of a Romanesque church. 

We then began climbing up and up toward the top of the walls. The walls are thirteen to twenty feet thick and eighty feet high. For

me it would take some effort. Along the way we would stop to overlook the harbor and the mountains of the coastal side of the

city. The seventy four acre wooded island in the bay is visible from the wall. It is said the Richard the Lion-hearted, King of England, was cast ashore there after being shipwrecked in 1192. By the time we reached the top of the wall our group had been overrun by Chinese tourists. 

The guide led us to the fast route back to the main street. Soon we were in the gelato shop.  I had a cookie dough flavor and Claudette had adifferent flavor; I don't recall what i was.  I don't know why I chose the cookie dough. I don't even like American cookie dough ice cream! We watched a television commercial being filmed while were there. 

"Maybe we can check the out the souvenir shops before we get some lunch?" Claudette asked.

"Why not?' I responded.

There were souvenir shops close by which we stepped in to buy a few items. (Gotta have the T-shirt!)

Close by was a lady with a number of beautiful tropical birds. There were parrots and macaws. She would allow tourists to have the birds sit on their shoulders, arms and/or heads. Usually a dutiful traveling companion would snap a photo and drop some money in the tip box. Naturally, an old man who always featured himself as a pirate of sorts had to have his picture taken with a parrot on his shoulder.  Claudette, being the good wife that she is, complied with my wishes. 

I got my shirt and she got some jewelry.  We left the walled city through Pile Gate and found a restaurant close by. We ate outside almost in the shadow of the walls.  The vegetarian pizza was awesome. It was perfectly complimented by the local brew.  

We throughly enjoyed our our day in Dubrovnik's Old Town. BTW Old Town is featured on the Croatian 50 kuno note.

HATE!

She was the object of my concentrated hate. I didn't like her. From the beginning she got special privileges.  Like when she rode home with my mother in that big long white car. I think people called it an ambulance. My mother did not play with me as much as she once did. Now she gave much of her attention to the little baby girl. I did not like her. And then there were the visitors. Once they wanted to see me as soon as they arrived. But now they hardly noticed. They would “u-u-h”and “a-a-h” and say “What a pretty baby!”  I did not think she was pretty at all: bald head, toothless smile, stubby arms and legs. Not pretty at all!  One Sunday there were some grownups at the house to see “the baby”. I was in the backyard trying to entertain myself. After all no one was paying me any attention. I was going to build a toy locomotive. They were big and powerful with steam and smoke. I loved them! I had found a small block of wood and a small red wooden ball with a hole in it. With my hammer I was nailing the red ball to the block of wood. (The red ball was to be the smokestack on my locomotive.) My construction adventure was interrupted by my father who said I had to be punished for using a hammer on Sunday.  The family was staunch Southern Baptists. We took that long walk to that area behind the woodshed where I bared my posterior to my father’s belt. It was a bad Sunday but the punishment that day paled in comparison to what was to come.

My dislike for my baby sister continued to increase exponentially. One day my mother allowed me to push the carriage with my baby sister in it. I was quite casual in my undertaking this task. At one point my mother relaxed her supervision and watchful eye. Clever lad that I was I took that opportunity to dump the baby from the carriage onto the ground. My mother screamed and quickly retrieved the undamaged baby. My father heard the scream and quickly apprehended his escaping four-year-old son.  The escapee was me. Once again we took that long walk to the woodshed.

Eventually I realized that I was stuck with a sister and we would become friends.

A Trip to Split

We fledgling travelers boarded the big bus in  Dubrovnik, Croatia, while the sun still bathed the Adriatic in the warm first light of day.  We would following the Dalmatian coast of Croatia to the city of Split.  The air was cool with the hint of rain along with the the smell of diesel exhaust. We were a happy lot. Thirty two tourists in search of adventure. Our tour guide,Vlaho, bearded with ponytail, counted heads. We were all present. The behemoth people mover moved out on the highway and we were on our way. A trip to Split. Split is the largest city in Croatia.

Soon we were following the winding road along the beautiful very blue Adriatic Sea.  There were not many watercraft visible. Many islands were visible though. Croatia has over one thousand islands although only a few are inhabited. The most common thing seen in the sea were the floats observed in rows as part of oyster farming. This form of aquaculture is extremely common in Croatia. Members of our group who had consumed this delicacy of the sea said they were very good. There were literally hundreds of these floats visible arranged in neat rows.

We made two border crossings. Bosnia owns a bit of the Adriatic coastline. The Croatians have been planning to build a bridge that would eliminate these  border crossings but it hasn’t materialized yet. Crossing the border was rather uneventful. But we were asked to keep our passports at the ready. According to our guide, crossings could sometimes be a hassle. I was curious because our

previous experience crossing borders of countries that were members of the European Union were totally uneventful. Passports weren’t even checked. Actually no one even asked if you had a passport! I asked Vlaho about the change. “It is due to the current refugee crisis, security had been increased” he said.

The bus followed the winding road to a higher altitude away from the coast into a thickly wooded area.  Our guide popped a cd of local music into the cd player in the console of the bus. It was beautiful acapella renditions of Croatian folk songs.  Little did we know that we would hear this music live in Split.  After the bus had weaved through the mountains for about an hour, Vlaho announced that it was time for a rest break.

The big bus stopped at an overlook of the valley below, the big tires crunching the limestone gravel. We filed off the bus. I commented to Claudette, “I’d stretch a mile if I didn’t have to walk back”.

“You always say that,” she said.

The overlook was splendid.  Below were three lakes probably 100 acres each in size. At the far distant lake was a small village.  Limestone outcroppings dotted the hillside. Claudette discovered an abandoned house with our binoculars. Between the craggy rocks grew yellow wildflowers. The sky was cloudless and the sun warm and the air smelled of growing things.

“Vlaho’s pop-up bar is open!”  our tour guide announced. We answered the call to refreshment. Like moths to a flame we were drawn. As we gathered around in the abandoned fruit stand, Vlaho announced, “ I got this from a friend of mine last night. He says it is very good.” He is holding a wine bottle with a red liquid in it. The bottle has no label. Vlaho explains that the liquid in the bottle is homemade wine that has had sugar added and then aged for three months. He began rapidly filling small plastic cups with the interesting liquid. And we, the tourists, began rapidly emptying them. On some occasions he had brought grappa. Although, technically, only the Italians can produce grappa. The Croatians apparently are not aware of this and continue to produce this particular type of beverage at home. I believe some of it exceeds the normal sixty per cent alcohol content. According to Mr. Google grappa is sometimes used as cold medicine. It Is true firewater!

Soon all the little plastic cups were empty. All the tourists were back on the bus. I did not know whether burst into song of fall asleep. I did not sing as we continued on a trip to Split.

A Pretty Place

Yesterday we were in the capital of Slovenia Ljubljana. We had never been to this part of Europe unless you count Italy on the western border. Actually, this part of the coumtry is a lot like Italy. At one point in history it was a part of Italy. But Italy was on the losing side during WWII and lost it. Slovenia was a part of Yugoslovia before gaining its indendence.

Today we are in the town of Bled. Yeah, like the past tense of bleed. It is a beautiful tourist town on Lake Bled, a glacier made lake. There is an icredible vista. A castle is perched on a rocky promontory one hundred thirty meters above the lake. A thousand years ago it housed a Catholic bishop, but today a souvenior shop, museum, eatery and blacksmith's shop. We traveled by tour bus to the base of the castle and then took a path of stone for the final thirty meters. Two old people were the last to cross the drawbridge into the castle. Some say they were from the USPS Zip Code 29445.

Once inside the castle walls there is an outdoor cafe. There is a beautiful view of the lake from there as well as the snow capped Alps. Picturebook stuff. In the lake there is a small island with no name which has a church. The church is often used for weddings. There are one hundred steps from the shoreline to the church's alter. It is said that when a potential husband carries his wife-to-be to the alter without her speaking a word, the union will be blessed. Of course there are stone stairways everywhere at the castle. And three different levels to view below. We checked out the souvenoir shop and Claudette bought a wooden dragon.    I had a nice talk with tthe blacksmith apprendence. He was into making ornamental iron. His method for making nails for carpentry was different from what I had seen in our country.  The museum was small but very nice. It contained archectural artifacts as well some religeous items. There was a suit of armor which appeared to me to be a reproduction.

Soon it was time to go back back down the mountain to our hotel. Down below we had a nice lunch while looking at the lake from ground level. Gotta get ready for a farewell dinmer with thw tour group and an early flight tomorrow.